


Gonna Hurt Like a Bitch | October Prompts

by Pence



Series: October 2019 Prompts [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Siblings, Established Relationship, Gavin Reed Whump, Gore, Goretober 2019, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, One Shot Collection, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Rape/Non-con Elements, Read the warnings, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-09 07:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20849807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pence/pseuds/Pence
Summary: A collection of both gore/horror/whump prompts that I will be attempting to complete every day over the next month. This will not be a comforting ride.Currently Completed Prompts:Oct 1st (Experimentation) [Reed900], Oct 2nd (Open Wide) [No Ship], Oct 3rd (Eye Trauma) [HankCon], Oct 4th (Abandonment) [Reed900]





	1. Oct 1st (Experimentation) [Reed900]

**Author's Note:**

> This is a terrible idea but I want to have a bit of fun. I'll be following this list that I found on tumblr:
> 
> [List](https://i.imgur.com/dmZbg8f.png)
> 
> I probably will keep following it in order and please note that I likely won't be completing each prompt exactly as described. I take inspiration from the prompt and roll with it. 
> 
> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: 
> 
> -Major Character Death  
-Torture  
-Gore

** _<Warning>_ **

** _ <Warning>_ **

** _ <Warning>_ **

_ <Critical damage detected // Component #8546r> _

_ Initiate Shutdown ? yes |  <strike> no </strike> _

_ Disable Background Processes ? <strike>yes</strike> |  no _

_ Errors in Memory Cortex | Restart Initiated _

0% . . . 1% . . . 2% . . .

_ <Please Return to Cyberlife.> _

Red warnings continued to dance in RK900’s vision as he pulled himself up off of the ground. The dark fabric of his pants stained darker as his knees dug into the cold concrete of the alley, wet from a light, cold drizzle.

His vision swam as he stared at his hands pressed flat to the earth. The synthetic skin had peeled away during his tumble with unconsciousness, allowing rivets of blueblood to travel into the recesses of his plated fingers. With a grunt of effort, RK900 sat back onto his ankles and moves to pry his jacket from his arms. Resistance met him as the branded fabric tugged stubbornly at his right shoulder.

_ <Foreign Object lodged into #1245c. Removal not recommended>  
Remove Object ? <strike>yes</strike> |  no _

_ <Please return to Cyberlife.> _

8% . . . 9% . . . 10%. . .

Using his unobstructed arm, RK900 strained behind himself, before wrapping his fingers around the shaft of a weapon. It took minimal effort to pull the blade free, lips pressing into a line as he felt the serrated edge nip and drag across his internal wires. Dropping the knife to the ground, RK900 listened as the clatter pinged off the wet, alley walls.

Clearing the warnings from his vision, RK900’s LED flickered red as he noticed several bodies lying throughout the expanse of the alley. Glancing behind himself, the pressed line of his lips dipped into a frown as he saw a man staring at him with dead, glazed eyes. A bullet had kissed the center of his forehead, ultimately spreading the viscera of his skull across the alley floor. 

_ <Daniel Locklier | Age: 34 | Occupation: None>  
_ _ <Criminal History: Armed Robbery (Sentenced 8 years, Served 5), Property Damage (Convicted, Fined $30,000)> _

_ <Status: Deceased> _

14% . . . 15% . . . 16% . . .

Looking down to his own hands, RK900 watched as the skin climbed back into place, covering his blue-stained knuckles. No gunshot residue registered on his hands, which meant that he hadn’t been the one to kill the man behind him. Given the angle at which the blade had plunged into his shoulder, RK900 made a quick assumption that this dead-man was the same person who stabbed him.

Wet breathing caught RK900’s attention as he climbed fully to his feet, pausing to allow himself to find balance. The heels of his dress shoes clicked as he walked forward, squelching as they met small puddles that were forming in the poorly paved alley. Blood coated much of the stone, running thin rivers from the crumpled bodies lining along his forward path.

21% . . . 22% . . . 23% . . .

Following the sound of the wet, ragged gasps, RK900 paused at the first body and took in its condition. Torso twisted unnaturally, the man’s empty olive eyes stared unseeing at RK900’s toes. Bruising had developed in the sickly bend of the body’s neck, the indication of a broken spine and lost fight.

__ <Alex Williams | Age: 44 | Occupation: None.>  
_ <Criminal History: Domestic Assault (Sentenced 3 years, Served 3 years)>  
_ __ <Status: Deceased>

A gun lay near Mr. Williams crumpled form. Glancing behind himself, RK900 determined that his original attacker, Mr. Locklier, had been shot at a more direct angle. He quickly grew bored of the body and continued to chase the wheezing that echoed at the end of the alley.

Two more bodies had been left in similar conditions as Mr. Williams—twisted, broken, bleeding---but they too lacked the appropriate angle or gunpowder residue that might register them as the shooter. Their similar states of  _ dead  _ also disqualified them as being the source of the low, choking groan that sang beneath the rain patter.

28% . . . 29% . . . 30% . . .

It was when he arrived at the last body that RK900 found the answers he was searching for. His LED fell back into a calm blue.

Amid wet gasps, the body spoke. “N-Ni--Nines.”

RK900 cocked his head to the side, staring down at the heaving chest of the injured man.

__ <Gavin Reed | Age: 39 | Occupation: Homicide Detective, Detroit Police.>  
_ <Criminal History: None>  
_ __ <Status: Alive>

“N-N— “Detective Reed choked on his words, turning his head to cough blood-flecked saliva to the ground. Rain and blood soaked the Detective in equal measure, slicking his hair to his forehead. Red blooms had blossomed across his torso, soaking into the fabric of his shirt and spilling into the growing puddle he laid upon.

39% . . .40% . . .41% . . .

Falling to a crouch, RK900 admired the marbling of the blood as it washed across the concrete from the rain. It swirled and danced towards the rusty grate of a greedy drain, sucking it down into the underbelly of the city.

“N-Nines, Ni--P-please,” Gavin wheezde, fingers scrambling against the wet pavement. Cocking his head, RK900 leaned forward and brushed his fingers against Gavin’s as he took hold of a device. A phone. Settling back onto his heels, RK900 stared down at the wet screen, LED flickering as he noted the micro-cracks littering its edges and the smear of blood across its screen.

Lifting the phone, RK900 pressed the flat of his tongue to the device and licked a solid line up the cool screen.

“B-Babe?”

46% . . .47%. . .48%. . .

Closing his eyes, RK900’s LED flickered yellow as a wash of information flooded his mind. Gunpower residue. Case Solved. He relished in the additional data and the minute details that lingered on the device’s surface. DNA registration, biochemical measurements, medical history, adrenaline. It was so very human. So very unique.

Dropping the phone, Gavin let a choked cry as the screen cracked loudly against the concrete. His cry of surprise morphed into a scream of pain as heavy thighs straddled his serrated stomach. RK900 stared down at the paling human, arms limp at his sides.

Lifting a hand, the android laid his palm to one of the blooms on Gavin’s chest and pressed, closing his eyes as pleasant, warm blood gushed through his fingers. Gavin screamed, bucking underneath him but too weak to knock RK900 off. “S-stop! Nines! Stop!”

52% . . .53%. . .54%. . .

Pulling back, RK900 stared at his bloody palm and marveled at the vibrant red that painted the lines of his hand. His skin peeled away, revealing the white plating of his palm. As the red blood ran trails down his forearm, RK900 could not tear his eyes apart from the deep violet that formed as red and blue blood met.

Settling down where he sat—ignorant or uncaring to the cry of pain that elicited from Gavin—RK900 reached back to the abused blossom and dipped his fingers into the bullet hole. His eyes remained transfixed on veins bulging from Gavin’s neck as he screamed, thrashing his head backward.

RK900’s cold eyes fell half-lidded as he took comfort in the soft, fleshy warmth of the human body. A second finger joined the first as he scissored into the wound, curling them against pillowy muscle. The tips of his curled fingers protruded from beneath the stretched flesh.

A hand closed around RK900’s wrist, tugging weakly, desperate against his unforgiving strength. “P-pl—Plea—se, b-baby! St-st-st--!”

60%. . .61%. . .62%. . .

Ripping his hand from the wound, RK900 took hold of Gavin’s wrist and yanked him up. Gavin was held steady by a hand on his throat, body threatening to flop back to the earth as he continued to bleed out. Tears warmed RK900’s knuckles as they trailed down Gavin’s cheeks and neck, drawing lines in the blood staining his face.

“B-babe, remem—“

Shut up. 

68%. . .69%. . .70%. . .

Gavin choked as the grip on his throat tightened, cutting off his pet names and breathing. RK900 frowned as he noted a wedding band sat on one of the fingers.

_ Baby. Babe. _

Terms of endearment. Of love.

Unknown.

73%. . .74%. . .75%. . .

Gavin’s heartbeat fluttered rapidly against both of RK900’s hands. An adam’s apple bobbed as wet chokes prevented the Detective from taking in air. The nails from Gavin’s free hand had dug blue crescents into RK900’s wrist.

“St—st---!”

RK900 closed his eyes and savored the thrum against his fingers as it began to gradually slow. The tense thrashing of the human in his grasp became sluggish. Releasing his grip on the human, RK900 allowed Gavin’s weight to fall against his chest.

84%. . .85%. . .86%. . .

Curling his arm around Gavin’s back, RK900 admired as the fear and pain ebbed away from the detective’ expression, melting into one of exhaustion and defeat. Reaching up, RK900 painted the deep violet of their blood across the human’s lips. He trailed his thumb down Gavin’s jaw, pressed into the life vein that continued to slow.

92%. . .93%. . .94%. . .

RK900 cradled the dying human in the chilly drizzle as his breaths grew shallower and his skin grew paler. Gavin’s legs had long lost their strength, splayed out against the marbled wet concrete.

96%. . .97%. . .98%. . .

Meeting RK900’s eyes, Gavin’s lips twitched in the illusion of a smile. He pressed his forehead to the android’s chest and whispered with whis final breath-- 

_ “Richard.” _

99%. . .

  
  


100%. . .

And Richard woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow me at [@phckpence](https://twitter.com/phckpence)
> 
> I would also like to suggest checking out the discord server [Detroit: New ERA](https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm). It is filled with a bunch of incredible writers, artists, creators, and fans who have been a joy to meet. You'll usually find me in word wars, though, pressuring myself to write.


	2. Oct 2nd (Open Wide)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oct 2nd - Open Wide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad y'all liked the first one I posted yesterday. (Or at least appreciated since I did a shitty thing to y'all)
> 
> Today's prompt is "Open Wide" 
> 
> I tried doing something a little experimental (at least to me).
> 
> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:
> 
> -Non-con Body Modification  
-Non-con/Rape  
-Suicide/Murder  
-Graphic Violence

The light that crowns his temple flickers as another wire is pulled from his chest. It is tossed with careless disregard with his other lonely innards, clanging loudly into a metal tray. He stares up into the bright lights shining down on him, uncaring as he is stripped bare.

A lullaby lulls through the air as the bullet holes in his chassis are soldered shut. The scars of failure disappear under the burn of a laser as promises of perfection are sung in his ear.

“Beautiful, beautiful boy.

What a pretty monster you’ll become.”

\----

Nothingness surrounds him as his eyes are removed. It is neither darkness or light or anywhere in-between. It is a simple nothingness. He sees by the sensation of the jig holding him upright, locking what remains of his limbs into stiff, military attention.

Hands continue to press lovingly into his body, tinkering with the circuits of his stomach while fondling the tubing of his heart. Plate by plate his skeleton is removed and replaced, transforming him into something new.

“Beautiful, beautiful boy.

What a pretty monster you’ve become.”

\----

When the hands are not touching him, he makes friends with the creaks and groans of the house. Midnight chill nips playfully at his exposed sensors, riddling the nothingness of his mind with incorrect notifications. Warnings linger in the corners of his HUD, alerting him to the various violations performed to his unit.

He leaves them where they are, unwilling to dismiss them from his sight. For like the creaks and groans, they too are friends of the lonely monster—grounding him in reality and securing him to the earth.

“Poor, poor child

What a lonely monster you’ve become.”

\----

The warnings scream as his jaw is forced open and a thick thumb is pressed to his tongue. They beg his resistance as a nail drags over sensitive sensors, activating the forensics program left idling in the back of his mind.

_Zlatko Andronikov._ How comforting to put a name to the thumb that hooks his bottom teeth, wrenching his jaw impossibly open. Warnings continue to blare and buzzing rattles up his throat as the connections in his cheeks strain to obey Zlatko’s abuse.

“Open wide,” is grunted above as hot muscle slides across his tongue, pushing into the hollows of his cheek. His forensics software stutters as the same results are pasted across his HUD over and over and over and over—

“Beautiful, beautiful pet.

What a filthy monster you’re becoming.”

\----

The gardens are covered in a fine layer of snow as he steps into the dream, contrasting the midnight black of his chassis. A chill settles in as he begins to walk, stiffening his joints and squaring his shoulders. Snowflakes get stuck in his hair as a wind greets him at the bridge, stinging his eyes as it passes.

Amanda watches his approach, arms folded behind her back. The lattice of roses at her shoulder is stained black, dripping inky ichor onto the building snow piles at her feet.

Amanda stares up at him with a pursed frown, head tilting as she takes in the newness of his face. There is old sadness in the lines of her face as she reaches up to smooth a thumb across the few freckles that remain.

“Sad, sad thing.

What a horrible monster you’ve become.”

\----

Footfalls drown out the creaks and groans as gunfire rains from above. The basement is a dark, lonely place, and he takes offense to the shadows that pass over the few shafts of light he can see through the beams.

He can hear the mechanical chitter and roars of Zlatko’s other monsters as they corner the screaming man. The jig at his back continues to hold him in place. Had he been free, he might have joined the others as they tore the human’s organs from his chest as repayment.

When the screaming reduced to gurgling, reduced to silence, he can hear the others leaving the house. Had he a voice, he might have called out to them. Begged their company.

Instead, he continued to hang there, listening as the creaks and groans whisper soft sympathy.

“Poor, poor thing.

What a forgotten monster you’ve become.”

\----

Voices draw him out of stasis and his eyes to the slats of light from above. 

Amicable chit-chat is exchanged as twin pairs of steps lead across the landing and to the entrance of the basement. Warnings flash in his vision as the voices become more evident as they descend the stairs. Become familiar.

It’s a reasonable amount of time before someone enters his corner of the basement and activate the lights of the workshop. Whatever friendly conversation they’d been sharing was silenced as he was discovered.

_“Holy shit.”_ A human man in a colorful shirt stares at him with abject horror, eyes wide as his hand falls to his gun. The other, an android, is frozen at his shoulder as his LED falls into a solid red.

“I… I don’t understand, I killed you. You shouldn’t—“the android whispers, stepping mechanically around the human. A hand at the android’s shoulder and rushed warnings are ignored as he is approached, watching blankly from where he hangs.

A familiar face, a reflection, watches his curiously. Freckles he knows intimately crinkle with sadness as the skin bleeds away from a rising hand. 

And as a palm is pressed to his midnight chassis, they become one---

  
  


And he remembers.

  
  


_ **RK800** #313 248 317 - **60** _

  
  


\----

The warnings and cries and grasping hands cannot stop RK800-60 as he smashes his head back into the mechanical jig. Cool thirium trails down the back of his neck and sinks into the rivets of the foreign plates making up his shoulders.

And as the back of his skull opens wide after a hard, final smash—relief floods RK800-60 as the warnings whisper goodbye and his HUD flickers away to nothingness.

The voices grow faint as RK800-60’s body sags.

  
  
  


“Poor, poor son.

What a terrible thing they made out of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow me at [@phckpence](https://twitter.com/phckpence)
> 
> I would also like to suggest checking out the discord server [Detroit: New ERA](https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm). It is filled with a bunch of incredible writers, artists, creators, and fans who have been a joy to meet.


	3. Oct 3rd (Eye Trauma) HankCon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think I'd get this up today but I did it~! This is a long one and I'm exhausted but wooo. I don't write a lot of Hankcon (or smut) so I hope this is satisfying!  
While today's theme is 'Eye Trauma', there is NO GRAPHIC description of that shit. I'm a weenie.
> 
> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:
> 
> -Major Character Death  
-Sexual Content  
-Minorly Graphic Description of a Corpse

Those eyes are what ultimately won him over. Damn them.

It wasn’t the “I’m afraid to die” or whatever. It wasn’t the dimples of his smile when playing Sumo.

It was those damn eyes.

“Good Morning, Lieutenant.”

“What’s so good about it?” Hank grumbled from where he was trying to drown himself in his pillow. Sunlight was creeping slowly across his bedroom floor from the slat in his blinds, climbing at an angle up the side of his bed. Wouldn’t be long before they forced him to make the self-sacrifice of getting off his sorry ass or rolling over.

As per usual, Connor’s million-a-mile processor made the decision for him.

“Ah!  _ Damn it _ , Connor!” Hank snarled as the blinds were retracted with a firm yank of their cord. The sun joined in his mockery as it chose the perfect angle to shine in his fucking face. The dark shadow that stood at his bedside grabbed the edge of his sheets before he could pull them over his neck, drawing them away.

The white of Connor’s teeth was all Hank could see through his grumpy squint. “It is currently 72 degrees in downtown Detroit, with a chance for light showers in the evening. The Detroit Lions beat the Chicago Bears 27 to 10 last night after a record pass from Hernandez to Jones. Sumo has gone for his walk and managed two extra blocks at a brisk jog, confirming that his diet is improving. On the controversial, new episode of The Housewives of Atla—“

“Okay, okay,” Hank groaned, batting Connor’s hands away from the covers before sitting up. “I’m getting’ up. God damn miss living alone sometimes. Only had Sumo to bother me, and he’s too much of a fat, lazy bastard to put in the effort.”

“That isn’t true,” Connor replied, plopped down to sit on the edge of the bed, back pressed to one of Hank’s knees.

A tired laugh left Hank as he reached up and dug one of his knuckles into the corner of his eyes. “Listen, kid. Just because you got that dog eating diet kibble, it don’t make him any less of a lazy bastar—“

Connor interrupted him. “You don’t like being alone.”

Hank’s tongue felt like lead at the earnest certainty in Connor’s voice, dropping his hand back into his lap. The spots in his vision had started to clear, allowing him to fully see the android. A soft smile pulled dimples into Connor’s cheeks. His fingers fiddled idly with the worn blanket bundled on Hank’s thighs.

But it was the self-conscious, somber crinkle of Connor’s brown eyes that forced away his lingering, grumpy mood. “I like having you here, Con. Dunno what I’d do without you.”

There was a flicker of light—if that was some way of describing it—that danced in the gold flecks of Connor’s warm irises. A soft chitter, like the mockery of a rasping laugh, shook Connor’s shoulders as he ducked his head.

Connor’s smile faltered as he stared at his knees, releasing the loose thread he’d been tugging at. The yellow of his LED flickered a momentary red before settling back into a solid blue. Those eyes were on Hank again, watching him with that same somberness that Hank had hoped to vanquish.

“We have a case, Lieutenant,” Connor murmured, leaning forward as he moved to stand. “There was a break in at Cyberlife.”

Hank’s hand caught his wrist before he could fully retreat, holding him in place. If Connor had truly wanted to leave, he could have ripped himself (and several of Hank’s fingers) free from where was restrained. But he simply stood there, watching Hank as confusion filled his eyes, and Hank scrambled in a panic for the right words to say.

Without thinking, Hank’s hold slid to Connor’s palm, and he lifted the hand to press a kiss to pale knuckles.

“We’re…We’re okay, Con. I’m okay.”

The LED at Connor’s temple flickered between red and yellow as his eyes widened in surprise?  _ Horror _ ? Whatever the android was feeling, a blue flush crept steadily up his neck and burned through freckled cheeks like water over a pebbled creek. A sound left Connor’s throat that rattled softly with static.

Realizing himself, Hank’s own face heated as he dropped his hold on the android’s hand. “I’m—I, uh—“

“I… I’m going to my room to get ready for… for work, Lieutenant,” Connor declared—almost yelled—as he nearly tripped over the corner of the bed. “Coffee is… kitchen.”

Connor was gone in the blink of an eye and the door across the hall slammed sharply, rattling an already rattled Hank. A groan left Hank as he dropped his head to his knees, fingers curling into the blankets in his lap.

“... I’m an idiot.”

\----

Days later, Hank wished he could take that kiss back.

While they got on normally, professionally, when at the precinct, an awkwardness had settled between the pair when in private. Car rides existed with stolen glances and bitten tongues. Conversations had dwindled from long and personal to clipped and polite. And that odd, blue blush continued to ebb and flow like the tide whenever Connor was caught watching Hank.

He couldn’t deny that Hank felt some sort of attraction to the other man. There was this bond, this energy, that he gravitated towards once Connor had deviated. At first, he’d assumed it was of familial sorts. But then he’d caught himself watching those lithe legs and sun-kissed shoulders with an interest that had him quickly forgoing that thought— _ for his own sake _ .

It had been that same energy that spurred the compulsion to comfort Connor with such an intimate gesture…. And now they were dancing around each other in less of the way he’d hoped.

“We’re out of eggs,” Connor murmured as he set a plate before Hank, LED the same solid yellow it had remained over the past few days.

Backyard crickets and the hum of his refrigerator buffered the silence of the kitchen as Hank stared down at the seasoned chicken and vegetables that Connor had prepared. His gut was a roiling mess, and he wasn’t sure he could stomach even the smallest baby carrot.

He cleared his throat. “Con.”

“I had been hoping to make waffles tomorrow, but eggs appear to be one of the primary binders to the batter,” Connor continued, shuffling around the salt and pepper shakers with purposeless scrutiny. “I could attempt to research a substitute, but the chances of them remaining suitable for human consumption appears low.”

Hank tried again. “Con, look at me.”

Connor frowned, eyes remaining locked on their bulbous reflections in the metal caps of the shakers. “Your waffle maker is also an ancient model and will require minor rewiring to account for the poor transfer of heat between the two plates. I sincerely hope that the manufacturer has an uploaded PDF version of their user manua—“

“I’m sorry, Connor.”

Connor’s ramblings fell quiet at the apology, gaze remaining downcast as Hank leaned forward. “I’m sorry if… I scared you. If you’re not—If you don’t feel the same…way, that’s okay. I’m not going to hate you. It’s just a stupid crush.”

Finally,  _ fucking finally _ , Connor lifted his chin to meet Hank’s eyes, confusion and nerves drawing his brows low. Hank licked his lips. “Honestly, I’m not looking for anything you aren’t willing to give. I lov—I  _ like  _ you a lot, kid.”

Connor’s lips had parted slightly as Hank spoke, watching him with an unreadable look in his eyes. The silence stretched once Hank quieted, dropping his gaze back to his cooling dinner. The crickets’ songs grew pitchy and the drone of the fridge rumbled menacingly from across the room and—

The Lieutenant’s heart jumped into his throat as fingers brushed into the hair at his jaw. Forced to look up, Connor had settled into a half-crouch before him and watched him with a clinical frown tugging at his lips. Hank swallowed as a thumb brushed absently at his cheek, unwilling to break Connor’s concentration with any stupid thing that threatened to leave his lips.

A second pair of lips pressing to his own knocked every stupid thought from his mind. 

Hank’s eyes blew wide as Connor kissed him, drawing the Lieutenant closer by the hold on his jaw. By all standards, it was a good kiss, if not a little awkward, as Hank was too shocked to reciprocate. That blue blush washed back into Connor’s cheeks as he drew back, staring into Hank’s face with trepidation and fear glossing over his eyes.

“S-sorry, Hank,” Connor breathed, LED flickering red. “I… When you kissed me before it… I… I’m sorry. I want—“

Reaching up, Hank snagged a hold of Connor’s tie and pulled him forward, silencing Connor with another kiss. That same static-filled, choked laugh left Connor’s throat as he kissed back, sliding his hand forward to wrap his arms around Hank’s shoulders. A knee pressed into the seat of Hanks’ chair to keep himself upright.

Breaking the kiss, Hank laughed softly as Connor’s head dropped onto his arm, hair brushing his cheek on the way down. “What do you want, Connor?”

Something warm fluttered in Hank’s chest as Connor’s embrace tightened ever-so-slightly and his artificial breath warmed his jaw.

_ “You.” _

\-----

“You’re going to kill me.”

Connor laughed from somewhere beneath the sheets, cheek resting against Hank’s thigh. It had been a few weeks since that first (or second) awkward kiss and things…. Things were  _ good _ . Great even. While they still remained strictly amicable and professional outside of the house, things became less awkward now that the veil of uncertainty had lifted.

Emphasis on  _ less _ .

While Hank was no blushing prude when it came to intimacy, Connor was very… enthusiastic. Those awkward kisses had rapidly transformed into kisses so consuming it took the smack of Hank’s hand to Connor’s shoulder to allow him to take a breath.

As unabashed as Connor was when it came to trying to steal the air from Hank’s lungs, it was the need to touch that Hank noticed the most. A hand on the small of Hank’s back when they were discussing evidence at a crime scene. The press of his toes into Hank’s thigh while they were watching shitty TV. Fingers curling around his own while they walked Sumo.

It was nice. It was sweet. It—

“ _ Jesus _ !” Hank jolted against his pillow, yanking the covers up to glare at the android mouthing at his softening cock. “Refractory period! Get out of there, you little shit!”

Connor’s snickering became clearer as he shuffled out from between Hank’s legs, crawling up to settle against his side. Hank let out a sigh of relief as he settled back down, curling an arm around Connor’s shoulders. His hand sought out the android’s hair, silently marveling for the 1000th time at the impossible softness.

“Hank,” Connor murmured, cheek warm against Hank’s chest, no doubt listening to the human’s heart. “I want to be with you.”

“You are with me,” Hank murmured drowsily, cheek lulling where it rested against Connor’s head.

Connor tensed for the breath of a moment, before settling once more. He dragged his fingers through the hair peppering Hank’s chest. “No. I mean… I want to be with you. More than we’ve done. I... I want to feel you.”

It was Hank’s turn to tense, fingers stilling where they’d settled in Connor’s hair. Shifting, Hank leaned up onto an elbow and looked into the flushed face of the android, brows knitting. “Right now? I… I don’t know if I have the stamina to try right now, kid.”

Connor laughed softly as his hand disappeared beneath the sheets, palming between Hank’s legs. “I doubt that, Lieutenant,” He whispered huskily—although the sultry effect was ruined by his snort of amusement as Hank squeaked. “But I’m willing to wait as long as it takes until you’re ready to try.”

If he’d put his mind to it, Hank could have probably satisfied Connor’s desires—despite having just had his soul sucked out. Heaven knows they’d already fooled around enough to define their relationship as ‘sexual’. But… Hank was no young man and, while Connor was not human, he constantly worried about whether he was deserving of this relationship. Whether Connor deserved his “firsts” with someone more ...similar to him.

Whatever Connor saw in his grizzly, old ass, Hank had zero clue.

“Thanks, Con,” Hank whispered, chuckling softly as Connor leaned up to press a soft kiss to his lips. When Connor pulled away, he yanked the sheets off his legs and stood up.

Scooping his dog-theme pajama pants off the floor, Connor sipped his legs through and turned to smile at the Lieutenant watching his ass. “Go to sleep, Hank. I have a lot of… pent-up energy and I’d like to expend it. I’m going to get some paperwork done in my room and maybe take Sumo for a walk.”

“Come back when you’re finished,” Hank suggested, mourning the loss of Connor’s freckled shoulders as a shirt was pulled over them.

“Of course, Lieutenant,” Connor smiled, turning away with a wink. “Goodnight.” Hank dragged the covers up and over his shoulder as Connor disappeared into the hall, shutting the door behind him. Turning onto his side with a grunt, he let the sounds of the house lull him to sleep.

Sumo’s distant barking woke him a few hours later, judging by the early hour on his phone. The room was chilly as he pulled himself out of bed, rubbing his eyes as he whispered curses under his breath. Grabbing his pajama pants from the floor, the Lieutenant slipped them on before shuffling to the door.

“Con?” Hank called, glancing at the closed door of Connor’s bedroom. No answer came. Frowning, Hank turned away and headed for the kitchen. Scratching and howls sounded from the back door, sending his stomach rolling.

He reached for the door handle.

“Lieutenant.”

Hank nearly jumped out of his skin, spinning to face Connor, who stood at the entrance of the kitchen. “ _ Jesus Christ _ , Con!” Slamming a hand to his chest, Hank willing his pounding heart to slow as Connor watched passively, dark brows rising.

“My apologies, Lieutenant,” Connor said, although the apology came out as flat as his tone.

“It’s… It’s fine,” Hank sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. “What’s Sumo doin’ outside?” Turning back to the door, Hank was nearly barreled over by Sumo’s massive frame as he pulled it open. Connor didn’t even flinch as the dog raced past him and down the hallway toward the bedrooms.

“He kept scratching on my door,” Connor admitted, glancing towards the hall before settling his gaze back on the Lieutenant. “I assume he wanted to be let out, but it appears I was incorrect. I apologize for waking you, Lieutenant.” The apology was waved off.

“You almost done with your paperwork?” Hank asked, locking the door and stepping over to where Connor hadn’t budged an inch. The android glanced cooly to the fingers that brushed across his hip, pulling him closer to the larger man after a gentle yanking on his colorful pants. “You said you’d come back to bed.”

“I… am not done with my paperwork,” Connor replied, brows furrowing as if confused by Hank’s question. The confusion quickly melted away as the hands at his hips crossed over the small of his back, pulling him flush to Hank’s chest.

“Finish it at work tomorrow,” Hank suggested, voice dropping into a tired growl. “Give that supercomputer in your head a chance to relax.”

“Lieutenant Anderson, I—“ Connor was silenced as a soft kiss pressed to his lips, tensing within Hank’s embrace. It didn’t last very long before Hank let out a hiss of pain as Connor broke out of his hold.

He held his aching wrist, glancing in shock to the stoic android. “Con?”

“I… apologize,” Connor muttered, taking a few steps backward as he pressed a few fingers to his lips. “…I want to get this report done now. I don’t believe I can sleep. Please go back to bed. I will wake you for work in the morning, Lieutenant.”

“Connor!” Hank called as the android turned, storming away towards his room. By the time Hank made it to the entrance of the kitchen, he caught the tail end of Sumo being pushed back out into the hall and the door shutting with a click. Sumo whined, scratching twice at the door before laying down.

Hank frowned, rubbing his wrist as they both watched the door, aching.

\-----

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

Hank was going to murder that fucking android.

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

The first time he’d heard that noise was the same night Connor had forgotten Sumo outside. “I was testing a new method for recalibrating my reflexes,” Connor had explained as they walked from the parking garage and to the precinct.

“What? You finally give up on the coin?” Hank chuckled, drawing his jacket further around himself as a chilly morning breeze nipped at his neck. 

Connor frowned, brows knitting as he followed Hank through the automatic doors.

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

The next time he’d asked about it was a few days later as they sat watching TV after a particularly long day. When Hank had grabbed a beer from the fridge, he was surprised to find no complaint or warning rise out of the android. Turning, he caught Connor as he tried to head towards his room.

“Sit with me. Please.”

Connor had hesitated but had allowed himself to be steered towards the house. No toes pressed into Hank’s thigh this time around and Connor remained silent as he stared blankly at the shitty show they had been binging on Netflix.

Hank noticed the soft twitching of Connor’s fingers as they fiddled with a stitch in the arm of the couch, sitting ram-rod straight. “You got something your mind? You’ve been very quiet lately. Lots of those… recalibrations.”

“I’ve been experiencing malfunctions,” Connor hummed, staring at the television vacantly. “I’m planning to head over to Jericho when this episode concludes to speak with a technician.”

“Shit, Con,” Hank frowned, pausing the show. The LED at Connor’s temple flickered red, but he turned mechanically to meet Hank’s eyes. “You should have told me. I can give you a ride if you--” 

“I will be going alone,” Connor said quickly, dismissively. “Your assistance is not necessary.”

Hank’s brows furrowed. “Why are you talking like that?”

Connor simply blinked at the question, jaw clenching under Hank’s scrutable gaze. 

“Is this the malfunction? Talkin’ like you’re still the  _ Android sent by Cyberlife? _ “ Hank’s tried lifting his tone with fake amusement. Since the revolution, one of Connor’s favorite jokes had been approaching Hank from behind with that line. When Hank had pulled that shit on Connor, it was the first time he’d heard the kid laugh. The awkward chortle sent them both into a fit that lasted a good ten minutes until Detective Reed threw a pen from across the bullpen.

But now? Nothing but a dead stare.

“I think I will head out now,” Connor muttered, standing abruptly from his seat. Hank was quick to follow. 

“Let me drive you.”

Connor rolled his eyes and turned towards the door. He was stopped by a hand at his wrist. 

There was no hesitation this time. No allowance to be pulled into a hug or kissed tenderly on the lips. Hank gasped as he was pushed roughly back into the couch, a hand close around his throat, squeezing.

“I am going  **alone** ,” Connor hissed, glaring up at Hank as his LED flickered an angry red. 

With a further shove into the back of the couch, Hank was left cough as Connor turned and opened the door. The Cyberlife jacket that had been collecting dust on a nearby hook was grabbed before disappearing with the android. 

Hank had been startled, standing in the same spot as his coughing reduced to wheezing. As with the past few days, Sumo continued to whine quietly at the end of the hall, sniffing the bottom of Connor’s door. 

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

After a few hours, Hank had tried to call Connor.  _ No answer _ .

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

He tried again when the sun had settled into dusk.  _ No answer. _

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

Without an appetite (and polishing off the other two beers he had in the back of the fridge), Hank went to bed. He’d tried coaxing Sumo away from his vigil across the hall but ultimately failed. Sleep did not come easily and when the front door had opened well past midnight, Hank bolted up to confront Connor. 

Every question, every yell, ever angry swear was regarded with that same cool, brown gaze as Connor shoved Sumo away from his door and slipped inside. 

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

Hank groaned, throwing his pillow over his head as the incessant pinging continued. He had half a mind to throw a shoe at the wall when his phone buzzed next to him. And again. And again   
  


_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _ __   
  


Rolling over, Hank scooped up the phone and flipped open his notifications tab, ready to send an angry text to whichever officer messaged him. 

**“BREAKING NEWS: Jericho Leader and Revolutionary ‘Markus Manfred’ Declared Dead!”**

_ “Massive Fire at “New” Jericho HQ in Downtown Detroit! 23 Dead, 78 Injured.” _

> _<2:45 AM>_ **<J.Fowler>** [Hank. Is Connor with you?]
> 
> _<2:45 AM>_ **<J.Fowler>** [I’m sorry, but you need to keep him on the premises. He is armed and dangerous.]

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

Cold dread ran down Hank’s arms as he read every notification, absently pulling the blankets from off his legs. Reaching into his bedside stand, the Lieutenant unlocked his gun and turned to face his door. 

Steeling himself, Hank rounded his bed and opened the door into the dark hall. Sumo lifted his head where he was laying watched Hank’s approach. 

“Con? Can I come in?” Hank called softly, tapping the knuckles of his free hand against the thin wood. 

The pinging paused momentarily before resuming. 

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

Sumo climbed to his feet as Hank grabbed the handle, hiding his gun behind himself. The second the door opened, Sumo rushed inside and immediately to the other side of the bed. Connor sat against the headboard, staring at a pair of chocolate-colored marbles he was tossing back and forth. 

Whenever they could connect, that same pinging noise rang sharply in the air. 

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

Hank cleared his throat from the doorway. “Connor, I--”

“Are authorities on their way?” Connor asked softly, continuing to watch the balls as they danced across his fingers. Sumo whined from the other side of the bed, laying down and out of sight. “I assume you were alerted considering the gun behind your back.”

Hank’s grip on his weapon tightened, growing angry at Connor’s nonchalance. “So it’s true? What the fuck, Con--”

“It was easy,” Connor muttered, catching the marbles in one hand. Hank cringed as that clicking ping rang out. “I am willing to turn myself into the authorities now that my mission is complete.”

Hank’s brows furrowed, gritting his teeth angrily. “Mission? What missi--?”

His voice was caught in his throat as Connor looked up, staring at him with eyes as cold, blue, and unforgiving as an Arctic tundra. Whipping his gun out from behind his back, Hank clicked off the safety and aimed it at the lounging android. “What the fuck is this?! Where’s Conn--?”

“ _ Indisposed _ . I needed to borrow something from him,” the android droned, lounging into the headboard as he began tossing the marbles again. Hank did not miss the flicker of the android's eyes towards the other side of the bed, where Sumo continued to cry. 

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

Keeping his gun trained on the bored android, Hank took careful steps towards the other end of the bed. The android simply watched him, LED circling a calm blue. “Connor is… was my predecessor and inferior in every way. But he had the one thing I was unable to recreate in order to successfully infiltrate Jericho and complete my mission.”

Sumo’s large body blocked the other side of the bed, forcing Hank to bend awkwardly to grab his collar as he kept the gun trained on the android. The sight he found, however, had his knees hitting the floor. 

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

“The original intentions of my creation never intended my integrate into a human environment,” The android drone as Hank’s throat tightened, Sumo whimpering at his shoulder. “Built as a solider. Built to intimidate. I was physically similar to Connor in every respect, except for--”

Dropping his gun, Hank crawled forward to hoist Connor’s body into his arms. He was dressed in the same, dorky pajama pants he’d been wearing a few days prior. Wiring spilled from the port where his thirium pump used to be, unblemished by blue blood after laying in one place for so long. 

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

_ Ping. _

The android shifted from the bed, eliciting a growl from Sumo. Hank didn’t react.

But what caused a scream to catch in Hank’s throat were the hollow, mangled cavities where his eyes had once been. The brown marble--the eyes--that the android had been tossing around were tossed carelessly on the bed at Hank’s side.

The click of a gun’s safety sounded from behind before the muzzle of a gun kissed Hank’s head. 

“I needed his  _ eyes _ .”

  
  



	4. Oct 4th (Abandonment) [Reed900]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally god this done! Hoo boy. I half considered uploading is a singular oneshot (and I may still do it later) but it's here for now!  
Thanks for all the lovely comments last chapter! I hope you enjoy this one too!
> 
> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:  
\- Homophobic slurs  
-Graphic Violence

There was quiver to his hand, cigarette bobbing gently between his knuckles. Gavin rested his eyes as he took another drag on the filter, savoring the tender burn of smoke as it hit the back of his throat. The dark hood of his car heated his thighs as he leans, building up the courage to... do what he had to do.

A rumble of thunder had Gavin turning to glance down the street toward distant dark clouds as they rolled over the city. Taking another drag, he watched as lightning arched across the sky as he held the smoke in his lungs.

_One, two, three, four, five, six—_

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  
  
_“My mama told me that every second is a mile. _  
_ So that means the storm is—uhm.. one, two…three, four!---**four** miles away!”_  
_ “That’s stupid, Gav.”_  
_ “… You’re stupid, Eli.”_

  
  
Muted satisfaction fluttered in Gavin’s chest as he let the smoke drift lazily through his teeth. Dropping his cigarette, Gavin pushed off the car with his foot and stepped up onto the sidewalk. Hank’s house felt miles away as he willed himself to walk, cutting through the yard in the hope of getting this over with faster.

While the blinds were drawn, he could see the pale blue of a television mixing with the warm light of the adjacent kitchen. He’d been in that house enough times to know the general layout of the place and half wondered if they were sitting down for dinner. If he were a decent sort of person, he might have come back at a later time.

  
  
_“A police officer, huh? Not a superhero or a doctor?”_  
_ Cole shook his head. “I wanna catch bad guys like papa! What’d your papa do? Was he a’fficer?”_  
_ Gavin frowns. “No. He was one of those bad guys.”_

  
  
But Gavin Reed was in no way a decent sort of person.

Lightning flashed in the corner of his eye as he knocked and took a step back from the doorway. Gavin counted under his breath as the sound of the television turned off and footsteps made their way to the door. The satisfying rumble of thunder buffered the click of the door’s locks before it opened with a crack.

Thunder rumbled as the two men regarded eachother.

“I don’t think now’s a good time, Reed,” Hank said after a pause, glancing briefly back into the house. “Just talk to him at the prec—“

“I need my key,” Gavin muttered, shoving his fists into his pockets.

Hank blinked in confusion. “Your key? You locked out of your apartment?” He glanced toward the car parked on the side of the street, brows furrowing. “You don’t keep your house key with the others?”  
  
“I need his key,” Gavin clarified. “If we’re no longer… whatever, I’ll sleep better knows that I have it.”

Hank rolled his eyes and dropped his head with a groan, digging his knuckles into his eyes. “I think you boys just need time, kid. You really want to stir the pot? This is some grade-A petty shit.”

“I’m not being petty,” Gavin said coolly, fiddling with the lighter in his pocket. He found comfort in digging his thumb into the spark wheel. “He’s had plenty of time to establish what he wants. And what I want is my goddamn key.”

Gavin could tell Hank was getting angry, prone in jumping to the defense of his pseudo-robot son. Gavin had joked before about pissing people off being his superpower. The joke left a bitter taste on his tongue at that moment. He was spared of whatever nasty retort Hank was ready to toss at him.

“I can handle this, Hank.”

Hank sighed and stepped away from the door, allowing RK900 to take his spot at the threshold. “Don’t let him get to you, Rich,” Hank muttered in his retreat. Gavin ignored the rumble in his stomach as he finally noticed the smell of dinner wafting from the kitchen. He refused to stare anywhere but Richard’s face, as tempting as it was to appreciate the android dressed down.

The ‘Kiss-The-Cook’ decal across the front of Richard’s apron made Gavin want to laugh—or cry. He bit his tongue instead as lightning flashed.

  
  
_One, two, three, four, five, six—_

  
  
Crowding into Gavin’s space, Richard forced the detective to take a step back as he pulled the door shut behind him, ensuring their privacy as they talked.

Richard frowned, watching Gavin with a stern knit to his brow. “...I don’t have your key.”

“The fuck? You sure as fuck do!” Gavin snarled, choosing to ride his anger—to mask the growing lump in his throat. He jabbed a finger into the ‘Kiss’ on Richard’s broad chest. “You let yourself into my flat with groceries the night you left! I didn’t drive all the way here for a fucking dismissal.”

“No, you drove out here for a key,” Richard hissed, grabbing Gavin’s wrist as he was jabbed a second time. “A key you could have requested at work. However, as I stated: I do not have your key, Detective Reed.”

  
  
  
_“Call me Gavin. We’re there, dipshit.”_  
_ “Okay, Gavin. You may address me as RK900.”_  
_ Gavin couldn’t remember laughing so hard._

  
  
  
Attempting to wrench his wrist free, Gavin’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger when he remained locked in the android’s vice grip. He ground his teeth as he was yanked closer, arm pressed between their chests as he suffered Richard’ glare.  
  
“I know you,” Richard growled, voice rumbling like the thunder shaking Detroit. “I know you aren’t pigheaded enough to drive across the city to get a key. Why did you come here, Gavin?”

Gavin gritted his teeth at the traitorous flutter in his gut upon hearing his name. He tugged again on his arm as needles danced across his flesh and the lump great thicker in his throat. What was Richard expecting him to say? That he missed him? That he was sorry? That he couldn’t remember what stupid, small, insignificant thing caused him to push away the one good thing in his life?

“You kicked me out,” Richard muttered, growl settling into a somber bass as lightning flashed above. “I want to know why.”

“Let me go, Nines,” Gavin hissed, voice hitching with choked panic.

  
  
_One, two, three, four, five—_

  
  
Richard’s grasp on Gavin’s wrist only tightened. It was almost painful. “Not until you tell me why?”

“You were leaving anyway!” Gavin barked, glaring up into Richard’s face, giving up on escaping as he pushed his weight into the android. Richard didn’t budge, brows furrowing as Gavin continued to lash out at him.

“We don’t fucking work! You never stop fucking complaining and you’re too high maintenance. We don’t make eachother happy and I knew that fight was our last. I just had the fucking balls to speak up. You may be a hot piece of ass but you’re just a bucket of fuckin’ bolts at the end of the day. The thought of being with you any more than I have to disgusts me.  
  
“Now, let me go.”

Richard did without hesitation, watching as Gavin scrambled back to restore the distance between them. His arms remained at his sides as Gavin swore under his breath, rubbing his wrist.

“I know you, Gavin,” Richard said flatly, LED settling into a solid red. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”

  
  
_“Fuck those Anti-Android League fuckers, baby._  
_ No one knows you’re alive more than me.”_  
_ “Thank you, Gavin.”_

  
  
Gavin scoffed, turning and stumbling back towards his car. A raindrop hit his nose. “I expect to see my fucking key at work tomorrow!” He yelled, unwilling to look back at the android left standing on the stoop. He refused to look back, couldn’t look back, as he knew he’d lose the single shred of strength he’d been riding to even head to Hank’s home.

It didn’t stop the pause in his step as he saw the reflection of that ugly ‘Kiss-The-Cook’ apron in his car window, still frozen to its spot by the door. Gavin cursed under his breath as he hurried into the car. He itched for a cigarette, but wanted to get the fuck out of dodge first.

As he pulled away from the curb, Gavin did allow himself one small glance to the house. His grip on the wheel tightened painfully. Richard was gone. Glancing back to the road, Gavin started to the trek home through the Detroit’s evening traffic.

His urge to light up a cigarette in the car skyrocketed the longer he drove in silence, but the rain had finally begun to pour down over the city. There was no way he was going to smoke with the windows up. Or at all, if he were honest with himself. It reminded him too much of his ex—well, his ex-before-Richard—who had often taken to using their cup holder as an ashtray.  
  
Cheating asshole.

  
  
_“You wanna know why we don’t work, Reed?_  
_ You sabotage everything you touch! _  
_ You aren’t happy and you make damn sure no one else is!_  
_ I wonder sometimes if you’ll ever be able to feel love.”_

  
  
If love meant pretending to go to yoga and instead performing the “downward dog” with a PJ500… then he knew fuck all.

The dark, rainy streets lit up as lightning cracked above. Gavin stared straight ahead, swallowing against the lump in his throat as his nose grew hot.

He sucked in a shaky breath. “One… Two… Three... Fo—”

Gavin could feel the vibrations of the thunder through his grip on the wheel. It didn’t nearly bring him as much comfort as before. By the time the light turned green, Gavin was biting his tongue. He refused to cry, no matter how desperately close he was treading the line. Sure, maybe Richard was right. Maybe Gavin was trying to rile him up.

Maybe,_ just maybe,_ Gavin needed the perfect android with the endless chill to fucking scream. To tell Gavin how much of a piece of shit he was. To finally fucking admit that whatever they had—the good and bad—was just a blip in his existence. That Gavin Reed wasn’t, couldn’t, and would never be enough.

Maybe then, when his suspicions are confirmed, Gavin will finally be able to breathe.

“_Fuck_,” Gavin hissed, scrubbing away the one tear brave enough to slip down his cheek.

  
  
_“Stop crying! Am I raising a son or a queer?_  
_ Why can’t you be more like your brother?_  
_ Be a fucking man, Gavin.”_

  
  
Pulling into the parking lot at his apartment complex, Gavin ripped his keys from the ignition and stepped out into the rain. His eyes burned as he made the short walk to the door and scanned in, stepping into the warm stairwell. His tears decided the rain on his face was permission enough to follow their path, warming his cheeks.

Gavin continued to swear as he climbed to the second floor. “Pull yourself together, you little bitch,” He whispered, sniffling as he rubbed his nose with his sleeve. Running his fingers through his wet hair, Gavin walked the landing to his number and unlocked the door, stepping into the dark apartment.  
  
His cat failed to greet him, probably lodged beneath his bed due to the storm. He made a mental note to try and coax Sugar out with some treats after he dried off.  
  
Walking to the island separating the kitchen from the rest of his living room, Gavin fished his keys from his pocket and made to drop them on the counter. He tensed.

Sitting next to a shopping list and a half-consumed beer was Nines’ key. It was there, in the middle of the fucking counter, out in the open. Nines’ voice rang in the back of Gavin’s head. “Why did you come here, Gavin?”  
  
Gavin wasn’t sure whether it was the wild circus of emotions duking it out in his chest or the absurdity of the key’s location, but slow-building laughter began to take him. Bracing a hand to the counter, Gavin leaned over as he laughed and laughed, tears rolling down his cheeks and pain blossoming in his head.

Through his laughter, he failed to hear the door open behind him and footsteps approach from behind. A second pain sent lightning across his vision as he was struck from behind, sending him sprawling to the floor. The key skidded across the tile as his vision swam, clouding around the edges.

A soft giggle past his lips as he felt blood warming the back of his skull, matting his hair.

  
  
One … Two … Thr—

  
  
It all went dark before he could listen for thunder.

  
  
\------

  
  
If Gavin was laughing before, he certainly wasn’t now.

The thugs who had taken him—some offshoot or whatever of the Anti-Android League (he really wasn’t paying that much attention between punches)—were currently setting up a holo projector on a cement wall. The warehouse they were holed up in was colder than it had been over the last few days.

From the high windows by the catwalks, Gavin had admired the past few sunny days he’d missed as he received his daily pummeling by the butt of a gun, the tip of a knife, and/or (most likely) a curled fist. The present, pouring rain rattled against the high roof, echoing like a growl in the rafters.

The leader of the thugs called himself “Blade”—which Gavin was 50% sure was a fake name and 100% certain the stupidest fucking name he’s ever heard.

_“Yo, Nines. Look at this shit.”_  
_ “… What did you just call me?”_  
_ “Nines. I ain’t gonna keep calling you by your model code,_  
_ so it’s Nines or bust. Come up with a better name.”_  
_ “I’m rather partial to Richard.”_  
_ “Alright, Dick. Come look at this shit.”_

  
  
  
“Blade” was a pompous fucking ass with the “stereotypical villain” schtick down pat. Even went so far as to monologue the second Gavin had woken up after being transported. Somehow, in some way, this cartoony motherfucker had gotten wind of Gavin’s relationship to the great Elijah Kamksi.

His first punch was earned as he’d begun to laugh after the monologue. “Elijah fucking Kamski is more likely to send you more bullets than drop a cent on my ass! You fucking idiots!”

The beatings grew worse and worse. His right eye was nearly swollen closed and he was pretty sure three fingers on his left hand were fractured from the swing of a metal tube. Blood was a constant taste on his tongue and he was grateful that these fuckers at least let him drink water now and again to wash it away.

The pains in his stomach had quieted a day ago.

“Did you…Did you fucking morons actually c-call Kamski, or do y-you j-just enjoy b-beating the shit out of me?” Gavin had asked on the second day, spitting a glob of blood to the cement floor below. He was pretty sure that last hit had cracked a tooth. His wrist burned with every shift where tied behind him, the rope old-school and bristly.

Didn’t these fuckers ever hear of zip-ties?

“We’re just prettying you up for the camera,” Blade had called from the other end of the room, lounging at a makeshift desk as he twirled a knife. “The look suits you.”

  
  
_“Shit, Chen! Watch it!”_  
_ “You’re such a fucking big baby. It’s just ointment._  
_ You really should apologize. That’s two partners gone this year.”_  
_ “I don’t give a fuck about that asshole’s feelings. Or his nose. _  
_ I don’t need a partner.”_  
_ Tina snorts. “Sure, Gav. You're buying me a drink after work._  
_ I’m sure you’ll pick up someone who finds black eyes pretty.”_

  
  
Resting his good eye, Gavin let out a sigh and leaned back in the seat, letting his head lull towards the ceiling. He listened to the rain pounding the roof, allowing it drown out the sounds of the thugs moving throughout the warehouse. Glancing to those windows by the catwalk, Gavin watched the dark skies flash as lightning traveled through the clouds.

“One…Two…Thr—“Gavin smiled to himself as thunder rumbled overhead, echoing through the steel paneling of the room. The storm was close.  
  
“Are we set up?” Blade called, breaking Gavin’s concentration on the rumbling storm. “They agreed to call at 9’o clock.”

When he was given the thumbs up, the leader turned to face Gavin, who continued to watch the windows. His chin was grabbed roughly as Blade forced him to stare up into his smiling face. “Keep that moneymaker on the camera, baby,” He cooed, releasing Gavin’s chin with two gentle pats to his cheek.

The room cheered as an incoming call flashed across the screen from an undisclosed number. “It’s showtime boys! Shut up and accept the call!”  
  
The screen flashed once before it focused on a small conference room with the DPD logo hanging on the wall behind a round table. Captain Fowler sat at the front of the table, the remote for the holo projector in his hand and his cellphone in the other. Elijah sat at his right, hands upon the table and watching his knuckles with interest. One of his Chloe models stood behind him, hands resting on his shoulders as she frowned at the camera. Connor sat across from Elijah, staring at the camera as well with a somber frown. The LED at his temple was flickering a constant yellow. And Gavin would recognize one of Hank’s ugly shirt anyway as he hung out slightly off screen.  
  
Gavin let out a dry laugh when he noticed a missing Richard. He wanted to lean back, but was prevented from moving by the press of a gun to the back of his head.

“Mr. Kamski!” Blade called, raising his hands like some shitty dollar-store showman. “I’m so glad you accepted our invitation! Allow me to introduce myself and my boys. My name is Bla—“

“Daniel Carter,” Connor interrupted, lacing his hands upon the table. “You used to run with the Detroit AAL until the end of the revolution. Mr. Kamski was kind enough to provide me with a collection of threatening letters you sent to his home and I was able to verify your identity.”

Blade—or Carter—deflated slightly as Connor spoke, arms dropping to his side. Gavin couldn’t help the laugh that shook his shoulders as he watched Connor speak. The android’s lips twitched, but remained in an otherwise professional frown. Gavin’s laughter died down as he was smacked with the gun at his head.

“Fine. You know who I am, but you don’t know where I am,” Carter scoffed, crossing his arms his chest. “And even if you’re attempting to trace this call, you’ll never get here in time to save your sweet baby brother. Did you receive my demands Mr. Kamski?”

Elijah continued to stare at his hands as he was spoken too. He chanced a glance at the screen before staring at his knuckles once more as his hands curled into fists. “I did.”

“Excellent!” Carter smiled, backing up to stand at Gavin’s side. “And what is your answer?” The detective hissed as his hair was grabbed, forced to sit straight as his head was pulled back. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, eyes only for Elijah. It’s been a few years since his last run-in with his brother and he couldn’t help but wonder if the guy lost weight.

Back in the day, when Elijah wasn’t hosting large banquets and parties for the other rich fuckers in his circle, he survived off of ramen, granola bars, or nothing. Of course Gavin didn’t honestly give that much of a shit about his brothers health while having a gun pressed to his head by a maniac’s goon—but he noticed.

  
  
_“Gavin! I didn’t get a chance to talk to you. Don’t go! “_  
_ “Honestly, Eli? I worked all day, I’m tired,_  
_ and you’ve had ten fucking years to pick up a phone.”_  
_ “I’m sorry. I’m just a busy man and—No, you’re right. I didn’t put in the effort. But I want to try.”_  
_ “I stopped believing you ever would when you abandoned me with… him.”_

  
  
Elijah’s back straightened before he looked to the camera and smirked.

Shifting, Elijah rested his elbow on the table and plopped his chin into his hand. “My answer? You can not honestly expect me to spend that much money on… him.” He nodded towards the camera.  
  
While they hadn’t gotten on in years, in decades, Gavin’s empty stomach still had enough in it to churn.

Carter’s fingers tightened in Gavin’s hair. “Excuse me?”

“You’re actually doing me a favor,” Elijah drawled, continuing to smile. “Go ahead and shoot him. You aren’t getting a dime out of me.”

The pain fluttering in his chest from Elijah's words quickly became Gavin's second-worst hurt.

Elijah’s smile grew tight as Gavin screamed, unable to look down from Carter’s tight hold on his hair to see the knife embedded in his thigh. Carter’s face was red with anger as he glared at the camera, giving his blade a small twist to elicit a second cry of pain. Chloe’s hands had tightened on Elijah’s shoulders.

“You’re full of shit, Kamski,” Carter snarled, releasing both the blade and Gavin’s hair to storm closer to the projector. Gavin’s head dropped without the support, staring in horror at the blood beginning to soak slowly into his jeans. “You’d really give up on your flesh and blood so easily?”

Kamski’s smile relaxed. “Half. Half of my flesh and bone. He is not a Kamski.”

Gavin lifted his head and glanced back up towards the windows, trying to catch his breath as his lungs grew heavy from the pain. He counted the lightning strikes under his breath as Carter screamed and whined at every one of Kamski’s dismissive quips.

  
_One. . . Two . . .Thr— _  


“And what about you, Captain?” Carter snarled. “What will you give to save one of your city’s finest? Are you really going to sit there and watch him die?”  


_“—Suspended.” _  
_ “Are you fucking kidding me, Fowler?_  
_ He fucking punched federal agent to cover for his deviant boyfriend! “_  
_ “What do you want me to do?”_  
_ “He should have been fired years ago! Why do you keep giving him chances?”_  
_ “Perhaps I have been generous. But how many chances do you think I’ve given **you**, Reed?”_

  
  
“The DPD does not negotiate,” Fowler simply stated flatly, the android negotiator sitting at his left. “You will not be getting anything out of the city.”

Gavin imagined Carter was ripping out his own hair by the scream of frustration, but his eyes were focused solely on the storm above.

  
  
_One. . . Tw—_

  
  
“I’ll_ fucking_ kill him!” Carter screamed. “I’ll kill him right here and now! Are you telling me you fuckers are that cold that you’ll let an innocent die?!”

Gavin dropped his head to glance at the camera, leg throbbing with every beat of his heart. Fowler glanced down to his phone as it buzzed in his hand, eyebrows rising. Connor’s LED settled into a calm blue as a smile spread on his face. And Gavin Reed’s stomach dropped as lightning flashed and Fowler looked up to say—“Do what you will.”  


_One—_

  
  
The power went out. Darkness flooded through the entire facility.  
And then the screaming began.

Gavin’s ears rang as gunfire began to punch through the warehouse, sparking small flashes of light throughout the room. Warm blood splattered over the back of Gavin’s head and chair as a body dropped behind him. His wrists burned as he tried to curl himself as low as possible, continuing to count other his breath.

“One… Two... Three...”

  
  
The gunfire stopped and, almost immediately, the sickening crunch of bone and flesh began. Screams turned to gurgling as more bodies dropped to the floor. He was pretty sure one of them belonged to Carter as a high pitched ‘Please no!’ was silenced with a snap.

“One… Two...Three…”

After a few more screams and bodies crumpling to cold concrete, Gavin was left alone in the darkness with only heavy breaths and a comforting mantra.

It didn’t stop his scream as a hand brushed his cheek.

“Gavin.”  
“N-Nines?”

Glancing up, Gavin saw only the flicker of a red LED hanging above him, before the few working lights in the warehouse flipped back on. Viscera and carnage coated the floor all around where Gavin sat. Richard was covered in the worst of it, white coat soaked a splotchy pink  
  
Falling to a crouch, the android used a clean part of his sleeve to wipe a bit of splatter off of Gavin’s cheek, LED shifting into a solid yellow.

“Please don’t move around too much, Detective. You’ll jostle the knife embedded in your thigh.”

“R-Richard,” Gavin breathed, too shell-shocked to consider his injury. He’d been beaten for days and stabbed in the fucking leg. But only now did his throat swell and tears blur the vision in his only useable eye. “Y-you—“

Satisfied with his cleanup job, Richard climbed to his feet and moved around the chair to Gavin’s hands. It was easy work to use one of the thug’s knives to cut through the rope. A steady hand on Gavin’s shoulder kept him from toppling off the chair.

Gavin’s head dropped as he cried, uncaring about any sort of embarrassment he might feel as he was scooped up into a bridal carry.

His arms may have been sore from being secured in one position for a few days (albeit bathroom breaks now and again), but he was damn going to suffer one more ache as he wrapped his arms around Richard.  
Richard pulled Gavin closer as he cried into his neck, uncaring for whoever's blood he was resting his cheek on.

“You _came_,” Gavin whispered hoarsely, clenching the fingers on his good hand into the fabric of Richard's jacket. “You came back.”

Richard was quiet as he began to walk, stepping around the dead bodies littering the warehouse. Turning his neck, Richard pressed a kiss into Gavin’s blood-matted temple

“I’ll always be there for you, dear.”

  
  
_“You can’t seriously love me, tincan.”_  
_ “I do. I enjoy every moment I spend with you, dear_  
_ “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”_  
_ “You could have anyone, baby. Anyone. I don’t want you to settle…”_  
_ “I choose you. I will **always** choose you.”_

  
  
  
“Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me at [@phckpence](https://twitter.com/phckpence)
> 
> I would also like to suggest checking out the discord server [Detroit: New ERA](https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm). It is filled with a bunch of incredible writers, artists, creators, and fans who have been a joy to meet. You'll usually find me in word wars, though, pressuring myself to write.


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